Rainfall
by KebbyElizabeth
Summary: People are not rain, or snow, or Autumn leaves. They do not look pretty when they fall down. It is not beautiful to witness the breakdown of someone else. Slow burn Lezona
1. Chapter 1

_**Please note, the idea for this came from a Figment prompt, check it out**_

People are not rain, or snow, or Autumn leaves. They do not look pretty when they fall down. It is not beautiful to witness the breakdown of someone else.

When Arizona Robbins leant her entire weight on me on the way to the taxi I could feel every inch of her skin touching mine. I was overly aware of her breath on my neck and her hand, looped around my waist, resting on my hip. I felt selfish for enjoying it. Selfish, because the alcohol was clearly masking the real issue and this was not just a drunk, giggling attending. Selfish, because there were parts of me that really wanted to take advantage.

I bundled her into the taxi and sighed. "I'm about to take my intern exam, which means I am about to be a second-year resident. My babysitting days are done."

"You're," she hiccupped. "Adorable."

I blushed, and ducked my head. She was giggling, and it was unlikely that she had even noticed, but I was mortified anyway. I cleared my throat and set my jaw.

"Just," I muttered. "Let me know when you get home."

I closed the door and watched as the taxi drove away, the hem of her dress hanging out of the door. My skin still remembered the feeling of hands. Shivers spread down my spine as I suddenly began to feel the chill in the air. I hadn't even realised how blind I'd been to the world while her arms were wrapped around me.

 _What is wrong with you?_

I lasted two hours before the radio silence took control of my nerves. She should have been home ages ago. Not that I had any delusions about the way she saw me. Part of me was all too aware of the idea that the reason she hadn't messaged me was because I was not someone she messaged. When she needed to tell someone she was safe, I was not on her list of people who needed to know.

But I needed to know.

I called her twice before I found myself outside of her hotel. My hands were clenched into white knuckled fists by my sides. I pulled my jacket more tightly around myself.

 _What are you doing?_

What was I doing? It was stupid o'clock in the morning. She was married. But separated. But _married_. What did I expect to happen? The best-case scenario would be that she spent the next day laughing about the crazy intern showing up at her place in the middle of the night.

I called her for the third time and when she didn't answer I pushed my way into the hotel lobby. It was a nice place. All the furniture was dark leather, standing stark against the white walls and the cream coloured carpet. The reception desk stood off to the side. It was a monstrous set up, of dark mahogany and computers. It all screamed expensive. It made my wallet ache just looking at it.

"Can I help you?"

The receptionist was a dark skinned, dark haired, dark eyed man. He stood clear of me by at least a foot and I was not a short woman. I offered an awkward smile and nervous laugh.

"I don't know."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's four in the morning, mam, do you have a room here?"

How had I planned to get into Arizona's room? My plan hadn't extended past turning up and just magically appearing before her. The silence spread between us for a moment before a lightbulb straightened my features.

"Yes," I said, with more confidence than I felt. "I do."

There was not a shred of belief on his face. "Room number?"

Room number. Do I know her room number? Had she ever told me… _run to my hotel, room 231, the cap is in the second drawer_ … not me, but someone. Room 231.

"231," I repeated. I closed the distance between the door and the desk, smiling as pleasantly as I could without seeming too crazed. I wasn't sure if I was succeeding. "Room 231."

"ID?" he asked, tiredly.

My smile faltered, but only for a second. "The name is Arizona Robbins. I'm a surgeon at Grey Sloan? My birthday is…" I rattled off details that I knew about her – refusing to acknowledge that I knew so much.

He handed me a key card before I finish speaking. Everything about his demeanour screamed that he just wanted me to go away, but I didn't care. I plucked the card form his hand and all but skipped toward the lift. It wasn't until the lift doors closed before my face and hid me from view that ice began to fill my stomach. How pathetic that I knew all that information, that I could recall it on a moment's notice.

 _What the hell are you doing?_

I recalled nothing of the hallway between the lift and the room. One moment I was standing, shivering, in the metal box – and the next, I was outside her door. The room number was carved out of what looked to be a gold metal, but was probably just gold coated. Like everything else, the door was a dark wood surrounded by white walls. _Should I knock?_

Before I can make that decision, there was a loud crash from inside the room. My mind was made up for me and I swiped the key card and pushed open the door.

The room was barely illuminated. There was one lamp in the corner by the bed which was on, but nothing else. The covers had been torn from the bed and there were clothes strewn about the floor. Nothing about it suggested that the blonde attending was the one who lived there. The aforementioned blonde was nowhere to be seen however. Then, a groan came from the bathroom.

"Arizona?"

"Murphy?" The sound of vomiting. "Oh my God, I'm dying."

If my eyes could have rolled into the back of my head they would. What had I been expecting? Of course she was vomiting into the toilet. I closed the door silently behind me and followed the sound of her groaning into the bathroom. She was sprawled out beside the sink, and there was blood on her face.

"Oh my God, Arizona, are you okay?" I stammered.

She lifted her head, staring at me with unfocused and groggy eyes. "Are you a hallucination? But why… would my… hallucination…" her movements grew a lot faster and she hoisted herself up and vomited into the toilet again. She sniffed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sat back. "Be you?"

Her question hurt a lot more than it really had any right to. I didn't let myself ponder it for too long, however, because the source of the previous noise became obvious when my eye fell on the shattered glass. Her hands were cut, and probably the source of the blood on her face.

"What did you do?"

"Well, hallucination Murphy," she dry heaved. "I tried to get some water and," she heaved again. "Dropped the glass."

I furrowed my brow. Careful to step around the prone attending, I moved forward and tugged open the cabinet above the sink. As I hoped there were a selection of bandages and antiseptic sprays. Nothing to stitch up any deep cuts. Hopefully it wouldn't matter. My fingers fumbled as I pulled them out of the cupboard, and I dropped the bottle in the sink.

Arizona's eyes were trained on me. I couldn't see them, but I could feel them boring into the back of my head. Or maybe it was just me, hoping that her eyes were on me. In all likelihood, they were probably closed, attempting to stop the world from spinning.

When I knelt beside her and took her hand I realised that her face was wet. Tears were making tracks down her cheeks. At first, I ignored it, pulling on some gloves and wiping the blood from her hands. She barely flinched as I fished shards of glass from her skin. Most of her hands were wrapped in white gauze before her silent crying got the best of me.

"Arizona…"

"She's telling people that I died," she said quickly, half laughing, half crying.

"What?"

Her eyes opened slowly. She looked at me but I don't believe she was actually looking at me. "Callie. She's telling people that I died."

I nodded slowly. The Gala was the reason that April and Arizona had been getting drunk in a supply closet. Torres was the reason that this woman, this beautiful woman, was crying on the floor of her bathroom at four in the morning. Suddenly I felt the white hot knot of anger take hold in my stomach.

How I longed to make her feel better. How I longed to kiss away her tears.

 _Get a grip._

I cleared my throat and stood, offering my hand. She followed my movements but didn't seem to register what I was asking her to do. Instead of attempting to explain it to her, I just wrapped my fingers around her wrist and pulled her up. She weighed less than I had expected and I ended up putting too much force into my hoist. Arizona fell against me, prosthetic leg giving way and arms flailing.

I caught her without too much difficulty, but it had left us in a somewhat compromising position. My nose was buried in her hair and, past the faint whiff of alcohol and vomit, I inhaled the scent of her. With my arms wrapped around her waist, we stood there for a few moments.

After a few seconds she placed her hands on my shoulders and righted herself. She glanced at me curiously, and then proceeded to vomit all over the front of my shirt.

"How the hell do you even have anything left to throw up?" I yelped.

"I think I'm done now," she muttered.

I clenched my jaws together and slowly guided her back into the hotel room. Her stride was lopsided as she limped on her prosthetic. I sat her on the edge of her bed and then stared down at the front of my shirt. Ruined. Wouldn't want it even if I could have got it clean. I pulled it over my head without even thinking about the blonde sitting in front of me.

"Murphy?"

 _Shit._

"Oh… sorry," I squeaked.

Hurriedly I yanked the nearest piece of clothing from the floor. It was Arizona's, an old grey t-shirt, but I didn't care. The weirdest sense of vulnerability overcame me and all I wanted was to cover myself. Before I could even get the shirt the right way around I felt her hands on mine. They were rough with gauze but still unmistakably hers. My body froze.

I was half naked in front of Arizona Robbins.

I was half naked in front of Arizona Robbins.

 _I was half naked in front of Arizona Robbins._

"Don't," she mumbled.

Heat flooded into my cheeks. "It's just… you threw up on me… and I just didn't…. I'm sorry."

She began giggling. "No… no don't be sorry. Come here."

Arizona stopped giggling. Her eyes took on this hooded look, and they were very obviously not focused on my face. If it was possible, my face grew warmer. I did as she asked, unable to resist – when a wave of her breath hit me square in the face and the spell was broken completely. I squirmed away, pulled the t-shirt over my head and moved backwards. She watched me go, but I couldn't read the expression on her face.

I busied myself by shuffling around the room. I filled a new glass with water and placed it beside the bed, swept the old one from the floor and binned it. I even spent several minutes picking up the discarded clothing from around the room and piling it by the door. In the time it took me to do this, Arizona had managed to struggle out of her dress and into a t-shirt and shorts. I tried not to watch. I really did try.

Once she was curled up under the covers I stopped. If it was possible she was even more beautiful now, than she had been all dressed up at the Gala. When I turned to leave she called me again.

"Murphy."

My hand was on the door handle. I could have left. I should have left. I didn't leave.

I could see from across the room that she had started crying again. She was hugging her knees to her chest and the sobs were shaking her entire body. My heart broke in my chest.

People are not rain, or snow, or Autumn leaves. They do not look pretty when they fall down. It is not beautiful to witness the breakdown of someone else.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't remember. I wasn't sure if I should have been horrendously offended or glad.

After she'd fallen asleep, I had left. Nothing had happened, but for two hours I lay beside her, listening to her breathe. She had felt so fragile lying there – I didn't want to move for fear of breaking her. We talked. Specifically, she talked, and I listened.

For two hours, I listened to her talk about Doctor Torres. It was okay though, because a lot of the things she'd said were negative. Her hand was warm on my stomach. Slowly, so slowly, her words became quiet and eventually they stopped. Her eyelids closed over those beautiful blue eyes.

Then I left.

Buying her a coffee the next day was probably a bad idea. Part of me was so convinced that something had changed between us. You don't just spend a night like that and let everything go back to normal. As I walked away from her the fake smile I'd plastered on my face fell away. She'd looked confused, worried, concerned. Not grateful. And Doctor Kepner, she'd raised her eyebrows… hadn't she?

"Hypothetical," I said, sliding in beside Jo in the locker room.

She jumped. "Jesus Leah, creepy much."

"Yeah, sorry – hypothetical though."

She closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled. "What?"

I inhaled and looked at the ground. "Say you turned up at someone's place and ended up putting them to bed and then the next day you buy them coffee, but they almost completely blank you."

Her eyes travelled the length of my face and body. Clearly, she was checking for any sign of a breakdown. I wasn't completely convinced that she wouldn't find any.

"Does that hypothetical come with a question?"

I nodded slowly. "Am I crazy?"

"Completely, is that relevant to the hypothetical?"

I rolled my eyes and left without another word. She called after me, but I was in no mood to talk anymore. My shift was over, so I did what any reasonable person would do. I went to Joe's, and I ordered the drink with the most alcohol in it. I blanched at the taste of it, but downed the rest of it in three mouthfuls.

"Everything alright?" he asked me.

My brow furrowed. "Yep, can I have a beer… please."

Joe sighed and placed one on the counter, popping off the cap with one, well-practised flick of his wrist. I drank half of it and then glanced around the rest of the room. The bar was both a great place to hide and a bad one. The alcohol was cheap, the bar staff familiar with us and what we must do – but that wasn't always a good thing. Everyone came here. That was the downside.

So, when Arizona walked through the door all I could think about was that very downside.

Swallowing hard, I moved away from the bar. She hadn't seen me, and I didn't want her to.

"See those people down there?" she said. "Those are the top twelve neuro surgeons in the world – and they need a drink."

Instead, I turned my attention to a guy standing at the other end of the bar. He was… okay looking. Completely passable. I offered him a smile and he tipped his drink to me, but no matter what he did, every few seconds my eyes returned to the blonde across the room.

"So, do you work around here?"

I dragged my eyes back to the green ones offering to buy me a drink. "What?"

He smiled again, and I couldn't help but notice how very straight, and white, his teeth were. Arizona had nice teeth. "Do you work around here?"

"Oh," I said. "Yeah – sort of."

Then I heard it. The sound of Doctor Torres – it sounded promising. Like whatever she was saying would upset the blonde. I was determined to be available to her.

"So, there I was, a cat in one hand and a child in the other and…"

I held my hand up. "I'm really sorry, I have to go."

I don't know if he had heard me, I hadn't stayed to find out. As smoothly as I could manage, I slipped onto the bar stool beside them. Neither of them noticed me, which I was grateful for. I turned away slightly, tilting my head toward them so I could listen.

That's when I really began to feel crazy. What the hell was I doing? What did I expect to happen? I had done this before. Become obsessed over nothing.

My eyes began to lose their focus. I stared, hard, at the green glass of my now lukewarm beer bottle. The edges of my vision became cloudy. Noise from the surrounding bar faded away until there were only my thoughts. Only images of every stupid thing I had ever done, swirling around and attacking my attention until there was nothing. Nothing except the rapidly approaching realisation that I was actually, really, truly insane.

"So… I want the rest of your crap out of my apartment."

"Calliope…"

Doctor Torres didn't stay to hear the rest of Arizona's sentence. The words died on her lips as she watched her wife stride away out of the bar.

"Are you okay?" I asked. The world came back to me in an explosion of colour and sound. I had no control over the words flowing out of my mouth. "If you don't want to go back to that hotel you can always stay at mine."

Her face twitched, like she was wrestling with multiple trains of thoughts within her head. After a moment she span round to face me and threw her hands up. "Look, okay, just tell me. What did I do? What did we do? Because clearly, something happened after the Gala and… I'm sorry…"

The realisation hit me like a train. She didn't remember, and I wasn't sure whether to be offended or glad. "Oh my God. I can't believe you don't remember."

"I was… drunk! And you're very pretty but…"

I held up my hands and her mouth clamped shut. "Nothing happened. I put you and Doctor Kepner into a taxi, but you're right – you were really drunk. So, I called to see if you were okay and you didn't answer so I got worried. I went to check – and really, it's a good idea that I did because when I got there you were practically swimming in your toilet. I got you dressed and put you into bed." I contemplated telling her that I had stayed longer than that. That I had held her for a good few hours, and listened to all the things she had to say about her wife. In the end, I decided not to – because my brain had finally caught up with my mouth.

She called me pretty. Did she mean that? What could it mean that she had noticed me? Not just noticed me as a person in her life, but noticed me as a person who was pretty. Attractive. That there was some part of her that had taken note of the fact that she liked me.

"Oh."

"Do you really not remember any of it?"

"I vaguely remember the vomit."

I gave her what I hoped was a flirty smile. "Let's go back to where you said I was pretty."

She laughed nervously and took a not small gulp from her cocktail. "That part?"

Her laugh was adorable, and I was fighting the urge to kiss her. Instead I leant closer and placed my hand on her knee. Her eyes flicked down to the place of contact and then back up to mine. The important thing to note was that she made no move to rid herself of my touch. If anything, she moved closer to me.

There were a mix of emotions on her face. Too many for me to identify. Arizona shuffled back to face the bar and my hand fell away. It took an embarrassing amount of energy to control the look of disappointment on my face. Instead, I wrapped my hand back around my almost empty beer bottle.

Then she said it.

"Oh, fuck it."

The next few moments passed in a blur. Arizona took my hand and pulled me from the bar stool. I wasn't able to control my movements, but it didn't matter, because she very professionally moved me through the crowd and towards the bathroom of Joe's bar. With her hand on the small of my back, she pushed me through the door, followed me in and locked it behind me.

"What are you…" I started to say. I didn't finish.

Arizona's lips were not gentle. They were not careful. Her teeth took my lower lip between them and pulled until it hurt. I kissed her back, not even having to think about it. Her hands moved to my waist, but the second I attempted to touch her back she brought them up and pinned my wrists to the wall.

"Don't move," she muttered against my neck.

"Okay."

"Don't speak."

I got it. This was happening, but in her mind, it wasn't happening to me. A wave of nausea washed through me. There wasn't time to dwell on it however, her hands were unbuttoning my jeans.

I moved my hands to cross behind my back and pushed my hips forward. In the end, I decided that I didn't care that it wasn't me that she was touching – because as far as I was concerned, it was happening to me. Arizona Robbins fingers were tracing the line of my underwear, and playing with the short hair beneath them.

My breath got caught in my throat when she began sucking on my pulse point. I fixed my eyes on the ceiling, sucking my lower lip into my mouth to suppress any moans. It still throbbed from where she had bitten it. I could taste where she had broken the skin.

Her hands rested on my hips again. Then, in a swirl of motion, she dug in her nails and span me round. All my effort went into not slamming my face into the wall. I didn't get long to think about it. She pressed herself into my back and bit down on the back of my neck. I wasn't able to prevent the gasp that it caused.

"Shh," she said around the bite.

Roughly, she pushed into me. I wasn't prepared for how it felt. There was pain, but also pleasure. Her nails clawed against the skin of my hips. There was no way I was walking away from the event unscarred.

The pressure built up in my stomach until my hands clenched against the wall and my eyes shut so tight I saw stars in my vision. At no point did she slow, or let up on her bite. My legs began to shake until the only thing holding my up was the arm she now wrapped around my waist.

I exploded against her hand. She stayed still while I convulsed against her. The only relief was her releasing the skin of my neck from her mouth. I panted, chest heaving and legs unable to support my weight.

She waited until I rested my head against the wall and straightened myself. Then she left. Not a word said.

I sank to the floor, jeans still undone, legs still somewhat numb and stared at the closed door of the bathroom.

 _What the hell just happened?_


End file.
